The Will to Survive
by NotSoWhimsicalWonderland
Summary: She only did what she did to survive. She didn't want to do those things, but she had to. She escaped and she survived, but her desires are still raging through her. She can't ignore them for long, or she'll be no better than the beasts outside.
1. Prologue

**Alright. I haven't written much over a long period of time due to school and other drama. I ended up getting back into the Walking Dead, thanks to a girl in another website. I had this really cool idea, and I thought that I would try to post it on here. This is just the introduction (a little sneak peek). It is a Merle/OC story. I apologize if my attempts at the accents are off (Merle' s Southern drawl, and Desdemona's Scottish slur). **

**That is all, and I hope you all enjoy. Cheers, and good day!**

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Desdemona teased the frayed hem of her sweater, her icy blue eyes focused upon the moist ground. She tipped her head back as the chilled rain poured from the grey sky. The fallen log she used as a resting place sent jolts of pain through her backside, and she slowly moved to stand. Her bare toes dipped into the soft earth.

"Ya alright, sugar-tits?" A deep, Southern drawl tickled her rounded ears. "Ya ran off like a wounded squirrel!"

There was a pregnant pause before Desdemona slumped to the ground. Her body trembled, and she began to weep. Heated tears stained her flushed cheeks. "Ah can't do this! Ah can't deceive yer people!"

Merle was astonished. He stepped forward and knelt down, his callused palm flattened against the fabric of her sweater. He frowned, shaking his head. "What are ya talkin' 'bout?"

Desdemona fell back onto her heels. She bit into the pink flesh of her tounge before she opened her mouth to speak. "Ya really wanna know what happened at da institute?"


	2. Of Searching and Giving In

**I apologize for the slow update. I've been kind of busy with some things. And, thanks to Tumblr, I have fallen in love with a show called Hannibal. It is absolutely amazing.**

**I also want to thank my followers. I love you all.**

**I do not own the Walking Dead, nor do I (sadly) own Merle and Daryl Dixon. I only own my characters.**

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The mental institute was a mess of broken syringes and dried blood. Half-eaten corpses were sprawled across the linoleum floor, their flesh spilt open. Overhead lights docked flickered as glass rained down from the ceiling. Graham yanked the hood over his head, a solemn expression darkening his face. Fingers wrapped around a flashlight, he slipped past a sharp corner. A lone Walker crawled out of one of the rooms, its arms bound by a straitjacket. The lower half of its body was left. Graham licked his chapped lips and stepped over the handicapped corpse. He didn't want to waste precious ammo in a single Walker. His hazel eyes darted from one room to another, but he received no hint that his sister had been in the hospital.

"Des!" Graham whispered, ignoring the groan of hunger from the Walker behind him. He flipped the switch on the flashlight, giving its battery a brief rest. "Des, are you here?"

The halls swallowed his words, but no response was given. He swore beneath his breath and slumped against a nearby wall. Silent tears slipped from his eyes as a small herd of Walkers caught the stretch of living meat. Graham unhooked the gun attached to his belt and slowly stepped into the middle of the corridor. With a cry of anguish, he readied the gun and fired at the Walkers. Bullets bounced off the floor as a transparent smoke spilled out of the barrel of the gun. Brain matter splattered across the white walls, spilling into the cracks.

"Oi! Yer gonna get yerself killed doin' shit like that!"

An arrow whizzed past Graham's head, startling him. He spun to face his savior. A man stood near the beginning of the corridor, wielding a crossbow. An oversized poncho was slung across his narrow shoulders, swallowing his lean body. The man stepped towards the Walkers, his small eyes trained on Graham.

"I don't need help! Get outta here before you get killed!" Graham hissed as he gunned down two more Walkers. He ignored the thought of his sister possibly being one of those things, his heart hammering against his chest.

A strong hand wrapped around Graham's bicep, dragging him away from the carnage. The Southern man flung curses as he yanked the younger man through the entrance of the hospital. The fresh air was a bittersweet welcome to Graham. He'd wanted to leave the hospital, holding Desdemona's hand in his. He had wanted to cling to her until she shoved him away.

"Watch yerself!" The man cried out, firing arrows through the heads of Walkers. Graham mirrored the attack , pulling the gun' s trigger until his finger was sore. The voice in the back of his head screamed for attention.

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The hunger tore through Desdemona like wildfire. She hugged the tree, her nails biting into the bark. Her forehead slammed against the tree, and tremors racked through her body. Crimson blood slipped from the cuts in her palms, splashing across the fresh blades of grass. She could smell the rotten flesh of the Walkers as they neared her hiding spot. Desdemona swallowed the bile in her throat, her shoulders trembling in fear.

"Ah gotta gae (go)," She slurred. Her vision began to blur as the hunger took over. "Ah need ta get away!"

Her eardrums danced as someone fired a shotgun. She felt the heat of the bullet, and her heart skipped a beat. Desdemona pulled away from the tree, twigs snapping beneath her bare feet. A voice called after her, but she refused to stop. Wind whipped through her tangled curls, nipping at the heated flesh of her nose and cheeks. Rocks dug into her feet, and jolts of pain rolled against the bones of her thighs.

An abandoned building appeared before her. The concrete walls were covered in a thick moss, and weeds flooded the grounds. A beaten path led Desdemona into the shadows of the building, cloaking her in flattened her body across the wall. Her ice blue eyes discovered a forgotten plank of wood. She hunched forward, pulling the plank into her thin and.

"Where are ya, sugar-tits? Merle ain't gonna hurt cha!" The man slipped into the building, sunlight reflecting off of the metal sleeve that replaced his left arm. He surveyed the room, a lecherous smile stretching his weather-beaten face. Cold, dark blue eyes split into the shadows, searching for the young woman. His only hand reached down, adjusting the front of his loose pants.

Desdemona forced herself to stay absolutely silent as the man stepped closer. She waited for the perfect moment. As he moved closer, she readied her make-shift weapon. The floorboards wailed just as Desdemona swung the wooden plank. The sharp edge caught the man's nose, and he fell back. Blood flowed freely from his shattered nose. The hunger flared inside of Desdemona, and she flung the plank. Her heart quickened as she moved into the sunlight. The sudden intrusion upon her eyes made her freeze. She whipped around, falling into her stalker's arms. She shrieked and swung her leg. Her bare foot slammed against the man's groin, and he quickly released.

"Ya little bitch!" He cried out, watching her backside as Desdemona disappeared into the forest. "When I get my hands on ya, yer gonna feel all of me!

Desdemona forced herself to calm down, her breathing slow. She tipped her head back, hoping the hunger would show, but it remained, refusing her strength. Her blue eyes drifted towards to man, but he was gone. She moved away from the tree and crept through the forest. She caught a glimpse of another man. He was thinner and much weaker. Wispy, chocolate brown curls framed his angelic face. Desdemona stepped behind the man, sunlight surrounding her like a halo. The man turned just as she lunged forward. His screams were silenced by her teeth sinking into his throat. Blood spilled out of the open wound, and Desdemona began her feast. The sound of tearing flesh rippled through the trees, altering the Walkers of food. Desdemona leaned back, flesh dangling from her lips.

Her hunger was settled, but she could feel her fear returning. Shaking her head, she jogged away from the carcass, leaving the remaining meat to the Walkers. Chilled tears rained down her cheeks, dampening the collar of her dirty shirt. She found herself standing inside the building, the air around her turning cold. She stripped out of her shirt and lowered herself to the ground. Her eyes slid shut, but she didn't fall asleep until the moon was full.

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**The end of chapter one. We already get some action here, and both Dixons are shown. Thanks, and I will try to update soon.**


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